Don’t be so reckless

I’m only 14 days into 2026 and I’m not impressed with it.

I feel restless and cranky and the world seems to be going to hell in a hand basket.

(According to Wikipedia, the origin of the phrase ‘hell in a handbasket’ has been much debated. Its usage may be dated to the baskets used to catch guillotined heads in the eighteenth century. Appropriately grim.) 

When I’m restless I feel an overwhelming desire to book a holiday, buy clothes or sell my home.

The first two are ill-advised due to the parlous state of my credit card balance (although there may be a Country Road top in the mail, bad Alana, naughty Alana).

The third would involve getting my home ready for sale and searching for something to downsize into so I have more money for holidays and Country Road tops.

Sydney really isn’t the city for downsizing – it consistently ranks as one of the world’s most expensive cities to buy property, second only to Hong Kong.

And my reasons for moving are pretty flimsy. I loathe the whole body corporate palaver, living on the third floor without a lift and having to trek up and down the stairs three times a day so the dogs can walk and wee.

But my apartment is spacious, comfortable and close to work. I should gird my loins and put up with the downsides for a few more years.

That doesn’t stop me obsessively looking. There may be a few open for inspections in my Saturday …

I didn’t get a chance to blog yesterday because I rushed straight from work on Tuesday to have dinner with the kids’ fabulous former primary school teacher. We haven’t caught up in ages and enjoyed exchanging anecdotes about walking the pilgrim trail to Santiago de Compostela.

She did it recently, while I did it with my ex before we got married (pictured main) and he’s floated the idea of doing it again with the kids in the next few years.

Not with me, of course.

Long-time readers may recall me wailing “all I can see is mud and all I can smell is horses’ piss” during the pilgrimage. My muscles were also so sore that I had to lift my legs out of bed in the morning. And that was when I was in my early 30s. Can’t imagine how I’d go in my late 50s.

She’s in her early 60s, absolutely loved it and found it profoundly cathartic.

I don’t have much other news to tell. I’m back to the office today with some leftover noodles for lunch after a welcome day of working from home with the doggos.

Song of the day: James Reyne “Reckless”